


Margrave and Mercenary

by felixs_thigh_highs



Series: Burn Until We Meet Again [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Golden Deer Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Golden Deer Sylvain Jose Gautier, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23018863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixs_thigh_highs/pseuds/felixs_thigh_highs
Summary: “Felix? Please let me in.” Sylvain realized his voice sounded strained, so he put on his most charming smile and spoke again. “Come on, tell me how the job went. I have to know if you’re worth all the gold you’re demanding out of me for dealing with a measly couple of bandits. I’d have done it myself, you know, but the horse I was breaking in last week threw me and my knee hasn’t been the same since. It’s hell gettin’ old, am I right?”Still no sound. Sylvain was just about to knock again and make some even more annoying comments, in an effort to rile Felix enough to get angry so at least he’d answer, when the door opened. It was just enough to be an invitation to enter, as though Felix had turned the knob and walked away, leaving Sylvain to push the door open and peek inside....Margrave Sylvain Gautier hires a mercenary to deal with some bandits in his territory, and the man that shows up for the job is one he hasn’t seen in decades.  After the job is done, the two talk about the future and relive the flames of the past.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Burn Until We Meet Again [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655503
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Margrave and Mercenary

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in years, and my first post on ao3. This ship and this fandom have me all sorts of inspired!

Felix came in shortly after sundown, haggard and dirty, but none the worse for wear. Sylvain had been waiting in the downstairs sitting room, trying and failing to keep his mind occupied with tax records, harvest reports, and other bookkeeping matters from around Gautier territory. He chose this room instead of his own private study because it was situated on the path between the back door and the guest wing. As expected, Felix went straight to his quarters, passing right in front of the sitting room door. If he hadn't been facing the open door and looking up distractedly every couple of seconds, Sylvain wouldn't have known that anyone had passed; Felix's footsteps were silent, a skill honed from many years spent hunting both animals for food and people for gold.

Sylvain jumped out of his chair, scattering a few papers that had been strewn on the desk, and quickly made his way to Felix’s room. He knew he wasn’t nearly as stealthy as the other man, with his larger frame and less than delicate way of comporting himself, so he knew that Felix must have heard him scrambling out of the room. Regardless, he wasn’t surprised to hear the quiet click of the door closing behind Felix as he entered the hallway. Maybe he hoped that Sylvain would get the hint and leave him be, but then again, when had Sylvain ever taken a hint?

As he knocked gently on the door, Sylvain realized he’d been holding his breath since he’d entered the hallway. He let it out as quietly as he could, but it still ended up sounding like a ragged sigh, a reflection of his nerves. The inside of the room was deathly quiet, and Sylvain thought that maybe Felix had frozen in place, like a deer that had been spooked by the snapping of a twig, waiting until the danger passed. But Sylvain would not be deterred; he knocked again, less gently this time, and called out.

“Felix? Please let me in.” Sylvain realized his voice sounded strained, so he put on his most charming smile and spoke again. “Come on, tell me how the job went. I have to know if you’re worth all of this gold you’re demanding out of me for dealing with a measly couple of bandits. I’d have done it myself, you know, but the horse I was breaking in last week threw me and my knee hasn’t been the same since. It’s hell gettin’ old, am I right?”

Still no sound. Sylvain was just about to knock again and make some even more annoying comments, in an effort to rile Felix to anger so at least he’d answer, when the door opened. It was just enough to be an invitation to enter, as though Felix had turned the knob and walked away, leaving Sylvain to push the door open and peek inside.

The room was pitch black; no candles or lamps had been lit, and Sylvain’s eyes were still used to the glow from the hallway. He squinted into the darkness, trying to see movement or a shadow that might indicate where the other man was. Then he heard water start pouring into the tub in the guest bathroom; he hadn’t even heard Felix walk across the room or close the bathroom door. Grabbing a candle from a sconce in the hallway, Sylvain pushed the door fully open and entered.

He picked his way across the room toward the sound of the splashing, stepping over a trail of dirty clothes that smelled of pine, dirt, and blood. Fear stabbed in Sylvain’s chest at the thought that Felix might be injured, so he quickened his pace. He didn’t knock on the bathroom door, instead opting to open it slowly, to give Felix the opportunity to cry out if Sylvain wasn’t welcome. No such cry came, so Sylvain entered and closed the door behind him, turning to face his friend.

Felix was sitting in the tub, which was on the left side of the room, with his back to the door. His hair had been released from his hair tie, but it was tangled and matted against his back, as if he hadn’t had a proper wash in weeks. He made no indication that he intended to acknowledge Sylvain’s presence, instead busying himself with pouring water over his head, so Sylvain took the initiative. He walked to the sink, placed the candle in the candelabrum there, and pulled up a stool beside the tub.

“So? How’d it go?” Sylvain asked in as cheerful a manner as he could manage. He still didn’t know if Felix had been injured, or if the blood he’d smelled had been that of his victims. Felix said nothing, instead lathering soap into his long, dark hair. Though it had been almost two decades, Sylvain could still feel the softness of those silky strands sliding through his fingers, and he longed to reach out and help wash them.

“It’s done,” Felix snapped suddenly, still not looking at Sylvain. He dunked his head under the water to rinse out his hair, and possibly to avoid further conversation. When he came back up, he finally glanced over at the other man. “You can leave the payment in my room. I’ll leave at first light.” Then he returned to looking straight ahead and lathering his body, as though nothing else needed to be said.

“Just like that, huh?” Sylvain asked, starting to feel heat under his collar, and not the good kind. Here was Felix, naked and soapy, after all this time apart, and Sylvain couldn’t even enjoy it. “Job’s done, so you’re just going to take the money and run?”

“That is usually how a mercenary operates, yes,” Felix replied, eyes remaining steadfastly fixed on the wall in front of him, idly rubbing soap across his chest with his right hand. 

Sylvain knelt down beside the tub, reached out, and grabbed Felix’s wrist, stopping the distracting motion and forcing Felix’s eyes to meet his. 

“You’re not just a mercenary to me, Fe,” Sylvain countered quietly, not letting go of the other man’s hand but instead drawing it to his own chest, “and you know that.”

Felix did not resist or pull his hand back, but he did drop Sylvain’s gaze, and when he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. “I should be.”

“We’ve known each other our entire lives. What the hell makes you think that you would ever be just some nameless sellsword to me?” Sylvain fought to moderate his temper and keep the anger from his voice. It was not easy.

“I deserve nothing more,” Felix growled, finally yanking his hand out of Sylvain’s grasp. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on top. He looked oddly young and small, despite the wrinkles around his eyes (probably the result of scowling at everyone and everything for decades) and the silver hairs sparkling amid the navy in the flickering candlelight.

The dam holding back Sylvain’s frustration finally broke at the sight of his lifelong friend, simultaneously so lonely yet so determined to be alone. Without thinking, Sylvain climbed into the tub in front of his friend, fully clothed and still wearing his house slippers.

“What the f--” Felix began, eyes wide, backing up against the tub to get out of the larger man’s way. Water and suds sloshed violently as Sylvain lowered his bulk into the tub, soaking the floor and bath mat.

Sylvain leaned forward, grabbed Felix’s right hand with his left, and pulled his chin up to look at him with his right. Russet eyes burned into copper.

“You will  _ never _ just be a mercenary to me. You will  _ never _ be anything less than Felix Hugo Fraldarius, my oldest and dearest friend, my partner during both war and peace, the person I love more than anything else in this entire Goddess-forsaken world.”

Felix tried to turn away, but Sylvain held his chin steady. He settled for lowering his gaze and mumbling, “Don’t say you love me.”

Splashing more water over the edge of the tub, Sylvain shifted closer, bracketing Felix’s smaller body between his knees, and moved both hands to hold Felix’s face, smiling gently. “I have never spoken truer words in my life. I love you, Fe. Always have, always will.”

They remained like that for several agonizing moments, neither moving, neither daring to breathe, Felix still staring determinedly at Sylvain’s chest while Sylvain cupped his face in his large, lance-calloused hands. 

It was Felix who finally closed the space between them, launching himself into Sylvain’s lap,  wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s neck, and pressing his lips roughly against the other man’s. After a few seconds of shock at the sudden change, Sylvain brought his arms around Felix’s slender back, pulling him into a straddle on his lap, and began kissing him back in earnest. One hand made its way to the back of the younger man’s head, tangling in his wet hair and tilting his face to deepen the kiss.

When Felix pulled away to catch his breath, he leaned his forehead into Sylvain’s. Both men kept their eyes closed, breathing heavily against the other’s lips, and gripping each other tightly. 

“Stay with me, Felix.” Sylvain’s voice was a broken whisper as he squeezed Felix closer to his chest. The redhead continued murmuring, peppering small, chase kisses across the other’s face and neck in between sentences. “Please. Stay with me. I can take care of you. We can take care of each other. Stay with me, Fe. Please.”

“Sylvain…” Felix groaned, whether in pain at Sylvain’s words or pleasure at his actions it was unclear; in their current position, both could feel the other’s arousal.

“I’ve missed you, Fe,” Sylvain continued, still kissing whatever he could reach: face, neck, shoulders, chest. “Missed you. So much.” Tears now began to leak from his eyes as he whispered. “So beautiful. Love you. Stay with me.”

Felix’s only response was to push the sodden robe from Sylvain’s broad shoulders, lift the soaking linen shirt over his head, and kiss him again, with enough passion to stop the pleading words tumbling from his mouth.

Hands began to roam, and despite the falling temperature of the bath water, their bodies began to heat up. When Felix’s fingers found their way just underneath Sylvain’s waistband, skimming the sensitive skin there, the latter pulled back from their kiss and looked askance at the man in his lap.

“Felix?”

“Shut up,” he replied, slipping off Sylvain’s lap, climbing from the tub, and pulling the other man out behind him. He grabbed a towel and ran it over himself quickly. Then he shucked Sylvain’s pants and underclothes down to his ankles and dried him off as well. All the while, Sylvain obeyed his command to shut up, watching every move with an intensity Felix couldn’t bear to look at, stepping out of his wet bottoms and slippers and lifting his arms to aid in Felix’s ministrations.

With all the dirt and blood washed away, Sylvain could finally survey Felix’s body for injuries. Thankfully, it appeared that none of the blood had been Felix’s. Scars from decades of mercenary work and war criss-crossed his lithe body, shining silver in the low light. His arms were strong from wielding his blade and cutting down enemies, his thighs muscled from crouching to sneak up on unsuspecting prey. His core was tight and defined, which bespoke his perfect balance and dexterity gained from years of learning proper sword-wielding footwork. He was lean, maybe leaner than was healthy; it couldn’t be easy to get enough food all the time when you lived paycheck to paycheck.

Sylvain was painfully aware of the stark contrast his naked body made next to Felix’s. Being margrave afforded one much security and ample food. Though Sylvain still trained often and was physically active when he could be, he had a slight paunch now from many hours spent sitting, bent over paperwork, enduring council meetings, and eating rich food at the many diplomatic banquets he was obligated to attend. 

None of that seemed to matter to Felix. Once they were both dry enough, he took Sylvain’s hand and led him from the bathroom back into the dark bedroom, leaving the candle in its holder. At least here, it would be easier to not see the fire in Sylvain’s eyes during what happened next.

Felix turned Sylvain around and pushed him until the back of his legs bumped up against the bed, causing him to sit down as his balance was disrupted. When Felix climbed back into his lap, straddling him just close enough that they could feel each other's pulsating heat but their erections didn’t touch, Sylvain’s breath hitched.

“Fe…” he breathed, hands coming around to rest on the smaller man’s lower back. “I…”

Felix’s lips crashed into Sylvain’s to stop his words, his hands gripping the older man’s face to give him control of the kiss. It was fierce and desperate, teeth clacking together and tongues probing. Hands grasped at anything they could reach, fingernails raking and leaving burning red trails across their backs. The careful distance Felix had initiated was gone now, and they were flush against each other. Their still-damp skin from the bathwater was soon covered in sweat as the heat grew between the two. Bodies ground together, building up the tension both so longed for.

It was as if no time had passed since they had last been together this way. They both still knew every sensitive spot of the other, what sort of touches would draw forth the sighs, shouts, and shudders they needed to hear. They climbed the mountain of desire, helping the other ascend at the same pace with careful strokes, bites, licks, and thrusts. When they came, they came hard, and together. 

Felix collapsed from his elbows and knees position and Sylvain followed, landing halfway on the other’s back and halfway on the bed. For a while, Sylvain was loath to move, instead wanting to bask in his afterglow with Felix pulled up tight against his front, sweaty, panting, and satiated. He could feel the younger man’s heart still racing, his body still trembling slightly after his orgasm. 

Once their breathing was regular again, he gently pulled out of Felix and coaxed him to turn over, to face him. Felix complied with only minimal grumbling, but he kept his eyes closed as he nuzzled into Sylvain’s shoulder. Sylvain put his hand on his lover’s cheek and rubbed his thumb gently over his lips. Humming in contentment, Felix kissed it, drawing a smile from Sylvain. 

“Do you remember that time back at the Officer’s Academy, when we were studying magic together? You were so mad at the professor because you thought it was useless. Then you ended up destroying not only your target, but mine as well.”

Felix smiled, his stony facade having melted away with the warm bathwater and the heat of their love-making. “That was the first time I realized I might have feelings for you.”

Sylvain took a steadying breath. “I haven’t seen that smile in so long. I’ve missed it.”

“I don’t think I’ve smiled since the last time you saw it.” Sylvain squeezed him tighter.

With Felix in his arms like this, Sylvain felt a sense of completeness he didn’t know he’d been missing. An ache within him was soothed, a hole filled. The years apart were erased and a happy future together stretched out before them in Sylvain’s mind. If Felix decided to stay, that is.

“Felix?” Sylvain said softly after several more moments, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled between them but needing answers.

Felix heard the tone shift and immediately grew resentful. “Didn’t I say to shut up, Sylvain?”

“And when have I ever listened when someone told me to shut up?”

“About an hour ago, in the bathroom.”

“Touché. But Felix, we really need to talk.”

Felix finally opened his eyes and glared up at the redhead. “No, we really don’t.” With each word he spoke, his voice grew harsher, his expression changing from bliss to anger.

Sylvain pulled back to better see Felix, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his head on his hand. With his other hand, he gripped Felix’s chin softly but firmly, so he couldn’t get away from what he was about to say.

“Stay with me.” Felix groaned and rolled his eyes, trying to pull his chin from the older man’s grasp. Sylvain got up onto his knees, pulling Felix with him and putting his hands on either side of his face. “I mean it. You don’t have to be alone anymore. We can be together now, like we always should have been. We’ve lost so many years. Let’s not lose anymore.”

Felix avoided his gaze. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“If you knew…”

“Knew what? I don’t care what you’ve done or who you’ve killed or what you’ve had to do to survive. None of it matters. All that matters is us, here, together. The war screwed us both up, and I know you had a hard time dealing with the aftermath. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you in every way you needed me to be.”

“No, that’s not --” Sylvain put a finger on his mouth.

“Let me finish. Please.” To his credit, Felix allowed Sylvain to quiet him with nothing more than a glare in response. “Look, I know you took your dad’s death hard, and maybe Dimitri’s even harder. I know you blame yourself for everyone we lost, and the way you dealt with that was living by your sword, not for king or country or love, but for yourself. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. I’m not blameless in this, either. I’m sorry I made you think that I’d given up on you. But hasn’t it been long enough? Can’t you allow yourself some happiness now? Let the past go and the dead rest so you can finally live?”

“I don’t belong here,” Felix persisted. “What would people say if I moved in so soon after your wife left?”

“I don’t give a damn what people think about me. I never have. And you belong here if I say you belong. Allie understands my feelings for you. I was straight with her from the beginning, and she always knew that our marriage was political. We may never have been in love, but we grew fond of each other. She would not begrudge us happiness, and she would shoot down anyone who said anything negative about it.”

“You just don’t understand…”

“Then explain it to me!” Sylvain was growing frustrated with Felix’s continued resistance, so he took a deep breath to calm himself. “If you’re worried about your sword growing dull, there’s always work to be done, always law and order to uphold. You would be plenty busy, chasing down those who would take advantage of my magnanimity. I wouldn’t even make you do the boring margrave stuff.” Sylvain smiled, trying to inject some levity into this heavy conversation, but he could feel that he was losing Felix.

As expected, Felix pulled Sylvain’s hands from his face and leaned away from him. The walls that had been slowly eroding all night were being rebuilt, brick by brick. “I’ll think about it,” was all Felix said, but there was no conviction in his words.

Felix turned to face away from Sylvain, pulling the covers up and laying down. “I’m tired. Can’t we just sleep now?”

His heart breaking, Sylvain smiled so that the sound would carry through in his words. “Of course, Fe. Good night.” He got under the covers too, pushing up against Felix to hold him close, willing him to change his mind with each breath.

“Night, Syl.”

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, to relish every second he had wrapped up with Felix, sleep eventually overtook Sylvain.

...

When Sylvain woke up, the gray light of morning was just beginning to filter through the guest room curtains. He patted the bed next to him in his half-asleep stupor, seeking the warmth of his partner, but the other side of the bed was cold. Feeling the sting of tears, Sylvain squeezed his eyes tightly before sitting up and opening them to see what he knew would be there, or rather, not there.

Felix was gone, as was his rucksack, his sword belt, and the trail of dirty clothes he had left the night before as he undressed. Sylvain had hoped, somewhere deep down, that his words might have swayed his friend, convinced him to give up the mercenary life and stay. He threw himself back onto his pillow, the tears flowing freely now. When his hand landed on the pillow Felix had slept on, he was met with the crumpling sound of paper.

A note.

Scrubbing his palms over his eyes to wipe away the tears, Sylvain bolted upright, snatched the note, and saw Felix’s tiny, scrawling handwriting. A ray of hope surged through him, but as he read, it faded, leaving nothing but a pit in his stomach.

_ S-- _

_ I took my agreed upon payment from your steward, minus the equivalent of a few days’ worth of food. As we had a written contract, he was content giving it to me without you being present, though he was less than happy about being woken up before the sun rose. _

_ Don’t come looking for me. Trust me, you won’t find me if I don’t want you to. _

_ \--F _

Closing his eyes, Sylvain crumpled the note into a tiny ball and hurled it across the room with a shout. Angry tears burned as they slid from his eyes. He allowed himself this time to cry, to feel all the feelings that he had denied himself for so long, since the war’s end and Felix’s disappearance. Anger, resentment, grief, love, desire, abandonment, self-hatred, loneliness. He cried for all the years he lost with Felix, the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. He cried for those they lost during the war, and before: Glenn, Miklan, Rodrigue, Dimitri.

When the tears ran dry, he sighed deeply and wiped his face with the sheet. Then he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face, only vaguely registering that there were still puddles of water on the floor from the night before. He looked at himself in the mirror: his fiery hair now streaked with gray. His face once handsome and full of boyish charm, now older and more weathered, currently red and puffy from his tears. His tawny eyes, now ringed with crow’s feet and laugh lines from years of smiles, both fake and genuine. 

If he squinted just right, he could still see the young man from 25 years ago, excited to attend the Officer’s Academy, dreaming that he might find love, or at least someone that tolerated him and didn’t just want to use him for his Crest. Little did he know then, he had always had that. And for now, that knowledge had to be enough.

It was time to face another day as Margrave Gautier.

**Author's Note:**

> After getting their paired ending in the Silver Snow route, I knew I had to fix it. I intend to write several stories centered on this ship, but set within the Verdant Wine Route because I love Bylaude. This series will be canon compliant except for one line: "and they never saw each other again." This is the first scene that came to me and it just flowed so easily. If you enjoyed it or have any other comments, let me know!


End file.
